


Dreams Descending

by redfiona



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Multi, erotic dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-05
Updated: 2004-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfiona/pseuds/redfiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantasies have a habit of getting the better of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams Descending

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Only for the lottery (2004)

~~~~

A torrent of French breezed past Rene's ear. It was more the tone that he noticed, the hotness of the breath on the side of his face. He couldn't make out many of the words, mainly harder, faster, more. Those sorts of words. So he did. He could feel everything around him shrink down into harder, faster, more.

And then...

~~~~

Rene woke up. He opened one eye warily, and then opened the other.

Yes, he was in a hotel room. No, he was still on Smackdown. And most importantly, no, Sylvain was not within a hundred miles of him.

This had to stop. It was starting to be an embarrassing problem. Thankfully not that embarrassing but still, it couldn't go on.

He had lost count of the number of times that he had woken up from similar dreams, sweaty and aching. And hard as a rock.

It was the why that he didn't understand. He never had thoughts like this, dreams like this, when he was actually on the same show as Sylvain, so why now? He used to spend most of the day with him and had seen him naked too many times to count - other than it being obvious that yes, Sylvain was a very handsome man there had been nothing, no response from the not-so-little one at all.

Yet now that he was away from Sylvain it wouldn't stop. Most nights he dreamt of him, dreamt of Sylvain's body under his in a thousand different ways, sweet nothings whispered, filth shouted, always in French. He was going to go mad if it didn't stop.

The problem was how to stop it? They were on separate shows now, and Rene couldn't go to Mr. McMahon and ask for Sylvain to be transferred just because, and that would be the only reason given, no one else needed to know about his problem. But Sylvain's presence seemed to be the only cure. Or rather it had been, there was no telling that it would still work, would he be able to look Sylvain in the face now he had had all these lavicious thoughts about him? And maybe the dreams wouldn't go away since temptation would be so near at hand.

All that would have to wait until some later time; that part of the problem would not be solved in the hour he had before he had to leave for the stadium. The other, more visible, part of the problem could be solved, however temporarily.

Rene got into the shower, luckily it was a strong flow, all too often hotel showers had weak little trickles that only meant it took longer and you caught cold more easily. And it would be a hot shower, none of this messing around with cold ones. While they may have worked they were rather uncomfortable, and with an intercontinental championship match around the corner Rene could not afford to catch a cold.

He would have to take matters into his own hands.

The warm water soothed his muscles, and the French lavender in his shower gel did the rest. Now to do what he had done hundreds of times before, but this time with the special condition of not thinking about Sylvain.

He tried, he really did. He thought about Dawn Marie and her exquisite fingers wrapped around his cock. He thought about Stacy's ass. He thought about Jindrak and his washboard abs fucking him against a tree. He even dragged the old faithful out of his store, the one mental picture that always worked, Torrie in a school-girl outfit hot for her French teacher.

Nope. Although that drove him close enough to the edge to make the final failure all the more frustrating.

The door opened and Sylvain in a hotel dressing gown came in.

"Maybe I can be of some help." He took off the dressing gown, revealing his gleaming, naked body, and stepped into the shower with Rene.

"I could lend a helping hand or something." Sylvain covered Rene's hand with his own, and Rene could feel his cock harden. "I'm thinking 'or something'." Sylvain kissed him and then knelt down in front of him.

Sylvain set to work and his mouth was driving Rene mad. Rene meanwhile was driving Sylvain mad in a bad way by pulling on his hair. Sylvain determinedly took Rene's hands away from his hair, his ears and anything else that would be hurt if Rene pulled hard on them if he got carried away and Sylvain was determined to make him carried away.

"I'm sorry," Rene was trying to apologise in between heaving breaths, "it's just,...you're just...you're more than I ever dreamed of." Sylvain smirked, as if to say of course. And that set Rene off.

He opened his eyes, and he was back in his hotel room, alone. Without the smell of toothpaste or the sound of teeth being brushed, and Rene knew without knowing that Sylvain would do that before he did anything else after oral sex.

Okay so his short term problem was sorted, he could go out without poking anyone's eye out, but his long term problem, probably the more worrying one if he were ever moved back to RAW or if Sylvain were to be brought over to Smackdown, that was now definitely entrenched. His own mind was conspiring against him. Maybe a visit to the library to read up on psychology, then again, he didn't want to go and see a shrink if that was what the books called for.

Or maybe he should go and see Sylvain the next time the RAW and Smackdown routes intersected, maybe then the spell would be broken. He hadn't seen Sylvain since the draft, he was too scared, terrified that he would make a fool of himself. Maybe facing up to his fantasy would shake him out of it. And if worst came to the worst, which was what he felt certain would happen in this case, he would at the very least be able to add more details to his mental images. If he was going to be plagued by them, they might as well be accurate.  
~~~~


End file.
